31 Days in May
by auberus11
Summary: A month of the Marauders at Hogwarts, one chapter per day. SiriusRemus preslash, COMPLETE.
1. May 1, 1976

**May 1, 1976:**

"Flowers," James says, a maniacal gleam reflecting off his glasses. "Flowers are key." 

Peter almost asks 'key to what?', but Sirius is rolling his eyes and Remus is looking amused, so the answer is pretty obvious. 

"Not Evans again," Sirius says disgustedly. "Don't you ever get tired of talking about her?"

"Never," James says, throwing his arms wide for emphasis. "For she is --"

Whatever horrible metaphor he's planning on using is lost as Sirius launches himself off the bed at him, changing into Padfoot mid-leap. Black paws strike James firmly in the chest, knocking him backwards with an audible 'oomph'.

"Enough already," Sirius orders, changing back so that he can sit on James' stomach more effectively.

"Oh, let him up, Pads," Remus says. "It's too late for that sort of thing."

"Traitor," Sirius accuses, but gets up anyway.

"Flowers," James says again, as soon as he can breathe. "No woman can resist flowers!"

"What have you been reading?" Remus asks.

"James can read?" Sirius teases, but James is in full-on Evans-mode, and ignores the sally.

"No, listen," he says earnestly. "Girls love flowers, right? It would be seasonal. Tomorrow's May Day, after all."

"Today is May Day," Peter says. "It's well past midnight."

"Flowers," James says again as they all settle into bed. "It's going to be brilliant." 

* * *

_"Brilliant,"_ Sirius says. He's laughing so hard that he thinks he might rupture something. "Just brilliant."

James glowers fiercely at him through his good eye. The other one is black and blue and swollen. Lily Evans has one hell of a right hook.

"How was I supposed to know she was allergic to pollen?" he asks indignantly.

"You couldn't have," Remus says, but his mouth is twitching in a highly suspicious manner. "Though it might not have gone so badly if you hadn't filled her bedroom to the ceiling with roses. Or, you know, if you'd taken the thorns off first." This last is too much for even Remus to bear with a straight face, and he joins Sirius and Peter in helpless laughter.

"I hate you _all_," James tells them, and puts the cold pack back on his bruised eye.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: Feedback of all kinds is more than welcome. This chapter, such as it is, is dedicated to **goldenrat84**, for providing inspiration, and to **marauderswolf**, for beta-help and the prompt._


	2. May 2, 1976

**May 2, 1976**

"I have a Plan," James announces. His eyes would be shining behind his glasses if one of them weren't still bruised from Evans' fist. 

Sirius looks up, interested. The last time James said those words in that tone, they had led to the mass enchantment of every statue in the school to recite rude limericks at anyone who passed by. The real genius of it had been the personal limericks he and James had painstakingly written for each of the Slytherins.

"What's it to be, then?" he asks, putting aside the quill he's been hexing to spray ink at the next unwary user. "Exploding cauldrons in Potions?"

James shakes his head. "Nah. We did that last month, and I don't fancy crossing old Slughorn again so soon."

Sirius grins. "How long did it take you to get that smell off your hands?"

"Days," James moans, "and bloody Snivellus made fun of me for it the whole time." His voice rose in pitch, mocking: "What's that smell? Must be a blood traitor."

"Tosser," Sirius sneers. "What's the plan, then?"

"Trelawney," James says, grinning wickedly.

"What about her?" Sirius gave up Divination in third year, partly to annoy his parents and partly because he lacked the patience to sit through Trelawney's pointless lectures. James, Peter, and Remus are still taking it, though, so he hears about the lessons pretty frequently.

"She's been predicting horrible things about Moony's future all month, and I think it's starting to get to him."

"That old fraud," Sirius says indignantly. "How dare she?" No one is allowed to upset Moony, as most of Slytherin House has learned the hard way. 

James gives him an odd look. "Right," he says, drawing the word out into two syllables.

"What?" Sirius asks.

"Nothing."

"What?!"

"Honestly, Pads, it's nothing. Anyway, I was thinking -- how d'you think Trelawney would react to being stalked by a Grim?" 

* * *

_Author's Notes__: Later this month: Trelawney gets stalked by a Grim. Feedback? Always a good thing._


	3. May 3, 1976

**May 3, 1976:**

"D'you think Binns was this boring while he was alive?" Sirius asks. At the front of the classroom, the umpty-millionth Goblin War unfolds in the professor's dusty tones, echoing through the room and lulling the unwary to sleep.

"Probably," James shrugs. He adores History of Magic. Gryffindor and Slytherin have it together this year, and the soporific effect of Binns means that everyone is just that little bit off their guard. Some of the year's best mayhem has originated in this classroom, including the Incident With McGonagall's Nightgown that James can't help thinking of in capital letters. That had been one of Sirius' more inspired ideas, though it had also proven that McGonagall was scarier than they'd ever imagined she could be. "If we could bottle Binns' voice and sell it as a sleeping potion, we'd make a mint."

"Who'd pay to be this bored?" Sirius demands. He's been twisting scraps of paper into vaguely human shapes for the past ten minutes or so; now he takes out his wand and makes a subtle pass over his desk, murmuring something that James doesn't quite catch.

The paper men come quietly to life, picking themselves up off the desktop with the crinkle of paper, and look around in apparent confusion. Then one of them shoves his neighbor, and within seconds Sirius' desk has become a battleground. Scraps of paper fly everywhere as the miniature combatants dismember one another. James is quite impressed to see that they actually bleed ink, great black gouts of it that go spurting across Sirius' desk and -- uh oh. James puts one hand protectively over his still-bruised eye as Lily Evans rounds furiously on the pair of them, wiping a spatter of ink from the back of her arm.

"What are you doing?" she hisses. Sirius blinks innocent grey eyes at her, despite the ink-and-paper evidence still tearing itself to pieces on his desk.

Most of the class is sneaking glances their way, except for Remus, who has refused to sit near either James or Sirius in History of Magic since the Niffler Affair of Second Year, and is hunched over his notes in a way that suggests that he's trying desperately to ignore them. Peter, who hasn't been allowed to sit near either James or Sirius in any class whatsoever since the Great Dungbomb War of '73, is craning his neck in a futile attempt to see what's going on.

"Well?" Lily demands.

"We're re-enacting the battle?" James says weakly, with a gesture at the still-lecturing Binns, then wishes he could kick himself. He's not sure which is worse -- the withering contempt in Lily's expression as she turns back around, or the choked noise to his left that means Sirius is trying not to laugh out loud.

"I'm hopeless," he mutters, and puts his head down on the desk. A snort of laughter escapes Sirius' iron control, and James lifts his head to glare at him.

"Go ahead, laugh it up. At least I'm not completely obtuse."

"What d'you mean?" Sirius demands. James ignores him loftily, and pretends to be absorbed in Binns' lecture for the rest of the class period, no matter how many paper attackers Sirius sends in his direction.

After class has ended, Sirius tackles him in the hallway and threatens dire revenge, but James manages to distract him by suggesting that they add Jobberknoll quills and Pixie toenails to whatever potion Slughorn is demonstrating after lunch. Sirius goes off, humming to himself, to raid the man's supply cabinet, while James stuffs his books back in his bag and catches up to Peter and Remus.

"What's gotten into him?" Peter asks, waving a hand after the now-vanished Sirius.

"I was messing with him," James shrugs. "Pretending I knew something he didn't know." Remus looks at him, and James adds defensively: "He got ink on Evans!"

"You still shouldn't do that to him," Remus says, the corners of his mouth twitching in an almost-smile. "You know how he gets."

"He's a bloody lunatic," James mutters. His hands and face are speckled with the inky blood of Sirius' paper assassins, and there isn't enough time for him to wash them before lunch starts. "He's off to steal potions supplies from Slughorn."

"You incited that, Prongs," Remus says mildly.

"Only to get him off of me! Look what he did!"

"You do look ridiculous." Peter tries and fails to hide a grin.

"Thanks awfully," James says, and wipes (he suspects futilely) at his face.

"You look like you've got big black freckles all up one side of your face," Peter continues helpfully. "Except where you just smeared it."

"There's no hope, I'm afraid," Remus tells James gravely. "You're going to have to bathe, Prongs. I realize that's a drastic measure for you to take --"

"Hey!" James objects, and takes advantage of Sirius' absence to give Remus the thumping he deserves. "I bathe daily."

"This year," says Peter. "And only because Evans said you smelled."

"Traitor," James accuses, and thumps him too, for good measure.

* * *

_Author's Notes: aohatsu, this one is for you, 'cause that drabble you wrote for me rocks._ _Feedback? Is love._


	4. May 4, 1976

**May 4, 1976:**

"Bloody Slughorn," Sirius moans, dropping heavily onto the bench next to Remus. "Three hours scrubbing out cauldrons, and I had to spend the entire time listening to him jawing on about Blacks he's known and sucked up to."

"Tragic." Remus shakes his head. "Let's hope this teaches you a valuable lesson, young man."

"Yeah," Peter chimes in. "Like 'sneak the random potions ingredients into someone else's cauldron, don't just drop them into your own.'"

"I'd throw something at you, Wormtail, if I weren't so bloody tired. Where's Prongs?"

"He wasn't with you?" Peter asks.

"Please," Sirius yawns. "They haven't let us serve detention together in years."

"Probably trying to keep casualties to a minimum," James says, hurling himself onto the bench next to Peter. "Hello, Padfoot. Moony. What's for lunch?"

"Roast beef," Peter says, passing him a platter.

"Wonderful," James says.

"What's got you so enthusiastic?" Sirius asks. "Spent your detention in McGonagall's bedroom?"

"That," James shudders, "is truly vile."

"It's a gift," Sirius says modestly.

"Give it back, then," James advises.

"Ha, ha. You're a bloody riot, you are. Pass me the potatoes."

"Your Majesty," James says, but hands over the food anyway. "Is Padfoot ready for his walkies?"

"Today?" Sirius groans. "Sod you, Potter. I'm beat."

"Today," James says firmly. "After lunch. And I'm just as tired as you are -- McGonagall had me washing dishes all morning."

"Remind me later and I'll get you a tea cozy to wear," Sirius grins.

"Ponce," James says, and hides his smile of satisfaction at the sudden flush in Sirius' cheeks. "Are we on for this afternoon?"

"Fine," Sirius says. "But you owe me Zonko's."

"What's happening this afternoon?" Peter asks.

"Oh," James says, trying for casual, "nothing much. Just thought that if Trelawney's as good as she thinks she is, she ought to be able to tell the difference between a real Grim and our furry friend." He reaches across the table and ruffles Sirius' hair, earning himself a fork in the arm for his trouble.

"Brilliant," Peter says admiringly.

"Stupid," Remus says, in almost the same instant. "Haven't you done enough detention this term?"

"No one's going to suspect us," James says, rubbing his arm. 

"McGonagall always suspects you," Peter tells him. "And she's nearly always right."

"That's the beauty of it," Sirius says, smiling beatifically. "She may suspect, but she'll never catch on. She'd never imagine that the three of us could have - you know."

"Mark my words," Remus says, reaching for the green beans, "it'll still come down to detentions in the end."

* * *

_Author's Notes: None, really. marauderswolf rocks for looking this chapter over for me. Feedback is awesome._


	5. May 5, 1976

**May 5, 1976**

Sirius had been planning to have a bit of a lie-in on Sunday, but his plans are spoiled before six in the morning, when That Idiot Potter drags him out of bed and forces him to change forms and go for a run outside of Trelawney's window.

Sirius is all for pranks, especially as Trelawney has committed the cardinal sin of annoying Remus, but that doesn't mean that he necessarily wants to leave his nice warm bed and go running about in the wet grass, especially as Trelawney tends to hit the cooking sherry pretty hard on Saturday nights and is probably not even awake.

When he gets back from his enforced romp and discovers that That Sod Potter has gone upstairs and back to sleep, he goes and takes a quick swim in the lake before sneaking back into the castle to wreak his revenge.

Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall is some sort of non-sleeping robot, (Sirius spent most of the winter absorbed in Remus' science fiction paperbacks, and he knows a robot when he sees one) so before he can go and shake water all over That Twat Potter, he has to answer all sorts of inconvenient questions (like what on earth are you doing, Mr. Black?).

By the time she's walked off shaking her head in disgust, he is very nearly dry, so it's back to the lake for another swim, a quick roll in the dirt beneath the Quidditch stands, and then a run up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, where he positions himself evenly between all three occupied beds before shifting into Padfoot and shaking as much mud and water as possible out of his coat.

His roommates wake up with startled, unhappy yells, and Padfoot jumps into bed with James, burrowing wet and muddy under the covers to the accompaniment of some of the most creative cursing he's ever heard. He tears the blankets off the bed and rolls on them until all three of his friends tackle him at once; then it's off around the room, barking like mad until Reginald Abbot, one of the sixth-year prefects, throws the door open to yell at them for waking everybody up at seven in the morning.

Abbot takes one look at the crumpled, muddy bedclothes; at Sirius, who changed back in a hurry without thinking about where he was and is now stuck under Peter's bed, his hair and clothing still bearing traces of his early-morning swim; at Remus, who is looking vaguely sheepish and a little murderous; at James, who is missing his glasses and is nearly as wet as Sirius, and closes the door again carefully.

"I don't want to know," Sirius hears him mutter as he leaves. 

* * *

_Author's Notes__: Meh, nothing really to say. Insert the usual feedback sentence here._


	6. May 6, 1976

**May 6, 1976**

Classes have let out for the day, and the Marauders are sprawled on the ground beneath the Quidditch stands, though it's not doing them much good. It is ridiculously, horribly, abominably hot out; twenty-seven degrees even in their patch of shade. Remus, who has never done well in the heat, can't help feeling a bit betrayed by the unseasonable weather. It's only the sixth of May, but it feels like August: bright and dry, with heat that makes the air almost solid in his throat and nostrils. All four of them have shed robes and ties, shoes and socks: there is a trail of discarded clothing scattered across the grass around them.

The heat has conquered even Sirius' energy. He has gone so far as to remove his shirt and is lying just outside the border of the shade with the sun brilliant against his winter-pale skin, sweat streaking his chest and face, his eyes closed against the weight of the light and his lashes dark against his cheekbones. Remus realises that he is staring and looks away quickly, only to meet Peter's eyes, surprisingly sympathetic in his round face.

"It's bloody hot out," Remus says, dispelling the suddenly uncomfortable silence.

"There's always the lake," Peter suggests. Remus gives him a grateful look.

"Not worth it," James says mournfully. "Not after last year." Last year's swimming expedition had taken place in late May, and had ended with Professor McGonagall threatening all sorts of dire consequences should she catch any of them so much as dipping their feet in the water ever again.

James heaves a mighty sigh and attempts the Herculean task of rolling over onto his back. He gives up halfway through and flops back onto his stomach, the pressure of the ground on his glasses knocking them askew until he reaches up and takes them off.

"Pathetic," Sirius says, without opening his eyes. "The pair of you. Think like Marauders."

"I can't think," Peter groans. "It's too hot to think."

"And why isn't Moony pathetic?" James asks.

"Because Moony, my dear Prongs, is unfortunately unable to _remember_ the pond in the Forbidden Forest."

"It's perfect," James says, sitting up. "It's in the shade, it's out of sight of the castle..."

"It's in the Forbidden Forest," Remus objects. "I can't grow four legs and run away if we get attacked by something."

"Moony!" Sirius says indignantly, opening his eyes. With the sunlight slanting into them, they are less the colour of stormclouds than they are the colour of water pooled over old stone, clear and deep and surprisingly calm. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Privately, Remus doubts that a half-grown puppy will be much good against the Forest's nastier inhabitants, or that four fifteen year old wizards will be any more effective. Unfortunately, his Christmas epiphany has made saying no to Sirius more difficult than ever.

"All right," he says. "But if I get eaten, Padfoot, I shall be extremely cross."

* * *

The Forbidden Forest is significantly darker, if not much cooler. Sirius, under the pretext of scouting ahead, keeps shifting into Padfoot and tearing off into the underbrush before returning, panting, with seeds and leaves and twigs caught in his long black fur. When he changes back to himself, the seeds and leaves stay stuck in his hair and cling to his rolled-up trousers. 

"All clear," he says, with the brilliant, uncomplicated grin that has been stealing Remus' breath since some time in October. "Come on, then; last one in has to plant a dungbomb in Snivellus' underwear drawer."

"If he _wears_ underwear," Peter says. The resultant spasm of horror causes James to trip and go sprawling headlong into the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. While he picks himself up, and Sirius and Remus exchange a look of amused disgust, Peter takes off running.

"Cheater!" Sirius yelps, and goes tearing after him, form blurring mid-stride into Padfoot. Remus reaches a hand down, ostensibly to help James up, but pushes him back down instead. There is _no way_ that Remus is going anywhere _near_ Snape's underwear drawer.

When he reaches the pond, Padfoot has already flung himself headlong into it and is barking joyously, chasing Peter through the shallows.

"Hold on, you mad mutt," Peter says, laughing breathlessly, just as Padfoot launches himself out of the water and tackles Peter backwards into it. Remus, hearing James' crashing footfalls behind him, runs the last few steps and dives into the water next to Padfoot, who greets him with a sloppy, doggy kiss on the cheek before turning back into Sirius, wet and laughing, dark hair sending rivulets of water running down his face and neck and bare chest. Remus sucks in a breath and takes a moment to be very glad that he didn't wait to take off his clothes before getting into the pond.

"Prongs!" Sirius crows. "I've got your dungbomb back at the dorm, mate."

"You're all a bunch of cheaters." James waves his wand in the general direction of the water. "Splashimus Maximus," he says, a triumphant gleam shining from behind his glasses. The water lifts itself ten feet in the air, leaving the pond dry for a long second before crashing back down on them in a floodlike deluge that sloshes over the sides of the pond like a tidal wave and catches James square in the face. Sirius laughs so hard that he tries to sit down in five feet of water and nearly drowns himself before Remus tugs him back to his feet.

"Breathe, Padfoot," Remus suggests, and tries desperately not to think about the way Sirius feels under his hands, about soft wet skin over lean, Quidditch-toned muscles, or the fact that Sirius manages to somehow be both cold and warm at the same time. Remus is almost ridiculously happy to still be wearing his trousers.

* * *

They stay in the pond for nearly two hours before the shadows start lengthening and James decides that it's time to pack it in. On their way back through the Forest, Sirius stops dead and lifts one hand for silence, face pale in the dimming light. 

"Pads?" Remus asks. All four of them have their wands out already, and are standing in a circle with their backs to each other when Remus hears it: the crack of a twig under a large foot, the sound of something heavy moving through the underbrush.

A glance at Peter finds him wide-eyed and pale, but his jaw is set in a way that Remus knows from experience means that he's determined to stand and fight. Sirius looks tense, his mouth a grim line, and he's holding his wand in the casually elegant grip that he uses when casting one of the spells he learned from his father. Given some of the creatures that Remus knows are loose in the Forest, that may prove to be a good thing. The noise of something moving comes again, and this time Remus can tell that whatever is out there is very close.

Peter makes a whimpering noise in the back of his throat. James says 'steady, man'. Sirius' hand closes on Remus' with bruising force, and Remus, torn between fear of imminent death and sheer elation, squeezes back; holds on tight.

"What are you children doing out here?" The voice is a man's: calm, adult, and utterly reassuring. All four of them let out a long breath. Sirius' death grip on Remus' hand loosens somewhat, but he doesn't let go. Remus' stomach is doing cartwheels beneath his diaphragm, making it difficult for him to breathe. Sirius' fingers are surprisingly slender, and when his thumb curls warm around the back of Remus' hand, over his knuckles, Remus has to close his eyes against the near-painful intimacy of what he knows is an unconscious gesture.

"We were having a swim," James says. His voice barely wavers. If Remus hadn't spent the past five years watching him talk to Lily Evans, he would never have known that James was afraid. "We're not allowed to swim in the lake."

The whatever-it-is moves again; the branches in front of Remus quiver, and a centaur steps onto the probably-not-actually-a-deer path they've been following. Peter gasps, and James turns around to look over Remus' shoulder.

"This Forest is not a safe place even for adults to wander," the centaur says. "Especially _this_ spring." He looks closely at Remus and frowns, then turns his curiously penetrating gaze on the other three in turn.

"It was hot," Sirius says, "and we were careful."

"Perhaps," the centaur says. "Still, a place that is safe for beasts and animals is not always safe for humans, not this year, and particularly not when night is falling."

"We're on our way back to the castle, sir," James says politely.

"Then I will say nothing to Hagrid," the centaur tells him dryly. "I can understand your desire for a swim. It is unseasonably hot this spring, even... unnaturally so. Still, I would not recommend coming here in human form again until the heat breaks." He takes a step backwards into the bushes, and is gone before any of them can ask him what he meant.

* * *

_Author's Notes: This one's a little slashier (is that a word? it should be) than the earlier ones. My evil is spreading. _

_Feedback? Kicks ass. _


	7. May 7, 1976

**May 7, 1976**

Sirius is drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair and bouncing the heel of his boot against the leg in a counterpoint rhythm. Remus thinks it should sound a lot more like the knell of doom than it actually does. It is, after all, a sign that Sirius is bored, and Sirius' boredom has led at various times to all four of them fleeing from angry Slytherins, angry Ravenclaws, angry Gryffindors, and, once, (an incident that they've all sworn never to talk about again, ever) from angry Hufflepuffs.

"What d'you think that centaur was on about?" Sirius asks, not letting up in his drumming. "About not coming back into the Forest until the weather breaks?"

"Dunno," Peter says, looking up from his Charms essay. "I thought centaurs were supposed to be interested in astronomy, not meteorology."

"Meteors come from outer space, Wormtail," Sirius says, rolling his eyes. "I'm not even taking Divination, and I know that one." Peter opens his mouth as if to explain, then apparently thinks better of it and goes back to his essay, shaking his head. 

Remus, trying desperately to focus on his Arithmancy homework, catches James' eye and gives him a pleading look. It's as hot today as it was yesterday, even with all of the windows in the common room open, and the combination of the heat and a manic Sirius Black is too distracting for words.

"Come on, then, Pads," James says. "We've got a professor to stalk, remember?"

"Slave-driver," Sirius says accusingly, but gets up anyway. "What if I still have homework to do?"

"Then you'd be doing it, wouldn't you, instead of sitting here bothering Remus?"

"Bothering?!" Sirius yelps. "Moony, I'm not bothering you, am I?"

"'Distracting' would be a better word," Remus says diplomatically.

"You're bothering him," Peter says, not looking up from his essay.

"Fine," Sirius says, feigning offence. "I'll just go and bother Trelawney, then." He and James go laughing out the portrait hole, and Remus turns back to his Arithmancy.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Thanks go to molsymo and nkaoede for looking this one over for me._

_Feedback? Keeps the plot-bunnies eating._


	8. May 8, 1976

**May 8, 1976**

James and Sirius don't come back until well after midnight.

"You missed dinner," Peter says, as the portrait hole swings open to disgorge the pair of them, messy-haired and sweaty-faced, dusty robes bearing mute witness to some portion of time spent hiding in one of Hogwarts' less frequented passageways.

"Raided the kitchen," Sirius says, grinning. "You should have come, Wormtail." Sirius always says this after he and James have been off by themselves. Peter is fairly sure that he doesn't actually mean it, though to be fair, he has never once made any objection to having Peter tag along.

"I had to finish my Charms essay," Peter shrugs.

"Good man," Sirius says vaguely, looking around the room. "Where's Moony?"

"Upstairs. He said it was too hot down here."

"I can't imagine that it's much cooler up there," James says, pausing in his struggle to get out of his filthy robes.

"Quieter, though. A couple of first years were down here earlier, playing Exploding Snap."

Sirius is already halfway up the stairs, calling for Remus in complete disregard of anyone who might be trying to sleep.

"He's absolutely insane," James says, and pulls his robes off over his head. "Finally!"

"Where have you been?" Peter asks.

"Sneaking about Trelawney's tower. I've bet Padfoot five Galleons that she'll be at breakfast tomorrow, shrieking about the Grim." He smirks. "Poetic justice, what?"

* * *

_Author's Notes: None, really. Feedback is the shiz-nit._


	9. May 9, 1976

**May 9, 1976**

(("Five Galleons," James whispers triumphantly. "Hand it over."

Sirius doesn't argue; doesn't even glance at him. Instead, he pulls the coins out of his pocket and thrusts them blindly in James' direction, eyes still fixed on the drama unfolding in front of the Head Table.))

"_Death_!" Professor Trelawney is shrieking. She is also shaking a Tarot card under Professor McGonagall's nose, and the affronted expression on the latter's face is worth every single minute of the study that went into the Animagus transformation. "Death is coming! Coming to us all! The foul omen that stalked through my bedchamber last night--"

(("Poor omen," Sirius mutters.

James and Peter both choke back a snort of amusement. Remus kicks Sirius in the ankle. "Don't start," he hisses, laughter bubbling just below the surface of his voice. Sirius doesn't dare look at any of them. If he catches anyone's eye, he's going to start laughing, and once he starts laughing, he's not going to be able to stop.))

Up at the High Table, Trelawney does her ostensible best to shove the Tarot card up McGonagall's nose.

"_Death_," she shrills triumphantly. "The cards never lie! The Grim itself walked last night! I saw it in my very room!"

"Now, Sybill -" McGonagall is clearly holding tight to her patience with both hands, and Trelawney is just as clearly oblivious.

"Don't try to calm me, Minerva! I saw it!"

"A dream, perhaps?" McGonagall suggests.

"It was no dream," Trelawney gasps. "I was wide awake when I saw It! The moonlight was streaming through its ghastly form! I grabbed for my wand --"

(("Grabbed for her bottle, more like," Sirius mutters.))

"--and did my best to fend it off, but the spectral creature was immune to all of my powers! It laughed at me, a horrid, mocking, _evil_ chuckle --"

(("That was me," James puts in, "under the Cloak."

"She _was_ shrieking and hurling crystal balls about," Sirius allows.))

"--and vanished into thin air!"

(("The Cloak again," James says modestly.))

"Now, now, Sybill," Dumbledore says, rising. "Let us go to my office and discuss this. There is no sense in frightening the children."

"Of course," Trelawney says, with a shaky sniff. "We must think of the children." As Dumbledore leads her away, talking soothingly to her, McGonagall turns in her seat and directs a long, suspicious look at the Gryffindor table.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: This one is for **sine**, who wanted to see this scene._


	10. May 10, 1976

**May 10, 1976**

"She's looking over here again," Peter whispers. Sirius lifts his eyes briefly from his plate to confirm that yes, McGonagall is doing her best to stare them into a spontaneous confession, before returning his attention to his supper. The season's last Quidditch game is tomorrow: Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, winner take all, and Sirius is doing his level best to obey Fabian Prewett by saving his energy for the match.

Not even the combined distractions of impending Quidditch and a suspicious McGonagall, however, are enough to keep him from noticing that something vital is missing from his surroundings.

"Where's Moony?" he asks, kicking Prongs in the ankle, since Prongs was the last one to see Moony before Quidditch practice.

"Ate early," James answers, around a mouthful of peas. "Pomfrey wanted him in the Hospital Wing for a check-up."

"It's not for three days yet," Sirius objects, sotto voce. He doesn't want anyone else reaching the conclusions he and James arrived at in second year. "What does she want to check up on him for?"

"I don't know, Pads," James says. "I think we can trust her not to poison him, though."

Sirius settles back into his seat, but food has somehow lost its appeal. Remus is in with Madame Pomfrey three whole days before the full moon, and if Remus is sick, then what right does Sirius really have to sit calmly in the Great Hall and enjoy his mushy peas? Not that he ever does anything calmly; still, that's beside the point.

"Would you quit fidgeting and eat?" James snaps, and if Remus weren't in the Hospital Wing, Sirius would tease James mercilessly over his obvious case of nerves. "You're going to have bloody Fabian over here again, jawing on about the match, as if we didn't get enough of that at practice today."

"Sorry," Sirius mutters.

James and Peter gape at him open-mouthed.

"Are you all right, Padfoot?" Peter manages after a moment.

"I'm fine," Sirius says, viciously spearing peas onto his fork. "Just fine. Why?"

"You apologized ," James says, feigning shock. "It's you should be in the Hospital Wing, not Moony."

"Shut it, Potter," Sirius scowls. He's not hungry at all, and he desperately wants to go check on Remus. Unfortunately, Madame Pomfrey has banned him from being in the Hospital Wing while healthy since he snuck some Dungbombs up to Remus in third year.

The unfairness of it all is nearly overwhelming, and Sirius settles for relieving his feelings by levitating the rest of the bowl of peas to the Slytherin table and turning them over Snivellus' head. The resultant uproar does wonders for his abused sense of justice.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: Thanks go to the incomparable **marauderswolf** for beta help. Extra thanks to anyone who has taken the time to read/review thus far. Your feedback keeps the plotbunnies from starving._

_ Bonus points to anyone who can spot the (very, very) obscure BtVS reference.  
_


	11. May 11, 1976

**May 11, 1976**

Two minutes before the whistle, and Sirius is tense with anticipation, trying desperately to clear his mind of the million and one things crowding into it. Beside him, James is fidgeting restlessly, eyes alight with the anticipation of the game. Fabian Prewett is pacing in front of the team, shouting his final instructions over the roar of the crowd.

"We're this bloody close!" he shouts. "Now, I want you to go out there and smash their heads in! Up Gryffindor!"

"Up Gryffindor!" everyone shouts, and then they're lining up as Gideon Prewett starts calling out names, his magically amplified voice seeming almost to shake the stands. Ravenclaw takes the field first; then it's their turn.

"Lewis," the announcer calls; "Abbott...Brown..." Then it's "Potter", and Sirius has one last second for the stomach-churning nausea he always feels pre-game before it's his last name booming around the field, and he takes off, airborne into brilliant sunlight. As the ground falls away behind him, so does the nausea, and the clutter of conscious thought falls like a weight from his shoulders, vanishes into the wind on his face; into the tension of muscles required to turn, to bank, to glide. The sheer joy of flight, of the game, overwhelm all of the myriad concerns that being land-bound brings, and Sirius brings his broom around as Madame Montremorcy releases the Snitch.

The game itself seems to go by in a blur, as always: in passes to James and Reynold Brown, in Bludgers whizzing by his ear, his shoulder, his knee; in goals scored and shots missed. It seems like no time at all before Gideon is shouting exultantly: "Prewett has the Snitch! Prewett has the Snitch! The game is over! Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins the Cup!", and the next fifteen minutes is a crush of bodies in red-and-gold uniforms, all of them screaming in triumph.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who's read and/or reviewed thus far. This one is short, but work was insane today. In-sane. More tomorrow._


	12. May 12, 1976

**May 12, 1976:**

During Sunday breakfast, while Remus is trying to enjoy the early morning quiet, Sirius asks him fifteen times how he's feeling, then gets mad at James and Peter for laughing and charms all of the sugar in the Great Hall to turn into ants the instant it touches food or drink. Remus, faced with a teacup full of weakly struggling ants, cannot help but feel relieved when Professor McGonagall hauls Sirius off by the ear for his weekly lecture on Why Transfiguration Is Not A Toy For Your Personal Amusement, Mister Black, No Matter How Talented You May Think You... Mister Black, Are You Even Listening To Me?

At lunchtime, Sirius gets into an argument with James about the Chudley Cannons that quickly degenerates into the sort of shouting match that Remus hasn't seen from them in a good three years. When Severus Snape makes an unwise and sarcastic comment in passing, Sirius turns and punches him in the nose before he's even finished speaking. Snape draws his wand, and the end result is that both he and Sirius spend the rest of the afternoon in the Hospital Wing.

Remus has a headache during dinner. Sirius takes it upon himself to cast Silencio on anyone who gets within ten feet of them, then categorically refuses to explain himself to Professor McGonagall. She is nearly vibrating with irritation, and Remus can't help sympathizing with her. 

"You've _really_ got to do something about him," James says, after McGonagall has hauled Sirius away for the third time. 

"What the hell am _I_ supposed to do about him?" Remus demands. His headache is a throbbing knot behind his left eye. "He's gone completely round the twist!"

"He's worried about you," Peter says, "and you know how he is."

"Insane?" Remus asks. "Obnoxious? Manic?"

Still, when Sirius comes scowling into the common room later that evening, Remus makes a point of sliding over to make a space for him on the couch. Sirius doesn't say anything, but he does sit down next to Remus. After a few minutes the worst of the tension seems to go out of him, leaving him calmer than he's been in weeks.

When Remus goes upstairs to bed, Sirius tags along behind him, and while Remus changes into his pyjamas, Sirius changes into Padfoot. When James and Peter come upstairs a few hours later, boy and dog are asleep in a pile on Remus' bed, and neither of them so much as twitch until morning.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: My thanks to **marauderswolf**, who helped me clarify the details. Thanks also to everyone who's taken the time to leave feedback.  
_


	13. May 13, 1976

**  
May 13, 1976**

Madame Pomfrey comes for Remus as soon as classes let out, which strikes Sirius as distinctly unfair, especially as Prongs and Wormtail are upstairs working on something for Divination and have left him to his own devices until nightfall. He considers settling in for a lengthy brood, but decides that it's too much effort. Instead, he swipes Prongs' Invisibility Cloak, and takes it down to the dungeons. Once there, he ducks beneath it and proceeds to chuck dungbombs at the Slytherin portrait hole until he is mistaken for Peeves and threatened with the Bloody Baron. At this point, he decides that he should probably find something else to do.

Ordinarily, this would not be a problem. Hogwarts is full of unwary students who are just asking to fall prey to such a clever Marauder as himself. Unfortunately, the day of the full moon is the Day of Not Getting Caught (it has been since Sirius realized that getting detention would keep him from being there for Remus), and Not Getting Caught is Not Sirius' Strong Point. He is bored, bored, bored. Much more of this, and he will be off looking for someone to prank, which would not be a good idea. McGonagall looked ready to skin him alive last night, and after yesterday, it's probably best not to test her.

In the end, he goes upstairs and raids Remus' collection of Muggle books, settling on something called The Hobbit, which sounds like an instruction manual for some strange Muggle tool but proves to be much more interesting. By the time James and Peter come to collect him for dinner, Sirius is certain that Gandalf is somehow based on Dumbledore, and has determined to ask the Headmaster about it at some point.

After supper -- which Sirius bolts down so quickly that after twenty minutes he cannot remember what he ate -- James and Peter go back upstairs to finish their homework, and Sirius takes the Cloak down to keep watch for Remus near the Whomping Willow. Even at this late hour, the heat is oppressive, and Sirius is sweating beneath the weight of the Cloak before he's properly settled in. When he sees the two figures, dim in the fading light, pause before the Willow; sees the restless branches slow to immobility, he knows it's almost time. Ten minutes later, Madam Pomfrey makes her way back up the hill towards the castle.

_"Loquorum et audium _James Potter_,"_ Sirius whispers, throwing aside the Cloak and putting his wand to his throat. A moment later, he hears James' voice in his right ear.

_"Pads?"_

"It's me," he whispers. "Come on."

"On our way," James says, and Sirius feels the distinctive pop in his ear that signals the end of the spell. Twenty minutes later, the three of them are standing in front of the Willow, with James and Sirius between Peter and the castle, blocking his transformation from any prying eyes. Sirius has changed, and is halfway to the mouth of the tunnel before the tree creaks to a standstill.

Moony is waiting for Padfoot at the end of the tunnel, already transformed and eager for escape. Padfoot barks once in greeting, and Moony follows him back down the tunnel and out into the hot, moonlit night to where Prongs and Wormtail are waiting, a blurred shadow at the edge of the Forest. The challenge of a race is all it takes to get Moony headed in the right direction, and before long they are all in deep woods, racing about like lunatics.

When he is human, Sirius sometimes reflects on how strange they must look, playing like this, but at the moment, all he cares about are the leaves underfoot and the scent of pack in the air. Even the occasional detour to recover an errant Moony is less of a concern than an adventure. Full moon nights are even better than flight, and Padfoot never wants them to end.

He and Moony are chasing Prongs, barking at his heels and generally making a nuisance of themselves when Padfoot realizes that something smells wrong. It's a cold smell, like long-dead bones, but with a foul underlay that clings like death-odor in his nose. At first, he is puzzled; then he recognizes the scent as the icy, skin-crawling feel of dark magic, filtered through canine senses. For a moment, he's tempted to transform, to examine the threat with a human mind, but a growl from Moony nips that impulse in the bud.

Instead, he takes off running in the opposite direction, turning the chase onto himself in order to lead his friends away from the whatever-it-is that smells so dangerous while at the same time marking the location carefully in his mind. He can come back to it tomorrow. Tonight is for other things.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Many thanks to **molsymo** and **elsane** for beta-help, and to everyone who's taken the time to read/review/comment so far. You guys rock.  
_


	14. May 14, 1976

**May 14, 1976:**

Sirius would like nothing better than to spend the day after the full moon in the Hospital Wing with Remus. Unfortunately, he's been banned from entering the Hospital Wing unless he himself is ill ever since third year, when he'd decided that fifty Chocolate Frogs were an appropriate sickroom gift. The resultant chaos had permanently soured Madam Pomfrey's opinion of him, though in his defence he really hadn't intended for them all to get loose.

As a result, he usually spends the day sulking under the Quidditch stands (or at the top of the Astronomy Tower during the winter) on the grounds that if Remus is miserable, he ought to be miserable too, out of solidarity. James and Peter (who are allowed in, the tossers, though only for twenty minutes at a time) always take Remus his best wishes, but it's not the same, and it's not fair.

Today, his usual spot beneath the Quidditch stands holds no interest. He smelled something last night in the Forest, and though he's not quite sure what it was, Sirius knows damn well that it means nobody any good. The memory of it is almost enough to tempt him to go to Dumbledore -- but if he does that, he'll have to admit to being in the Forest in the first place, and maybe even to being an Animagus, because really, how else could he explain having smelled Dark magic? Better to have a look around with human eyes, and see if there is anything he can justify reporting.

He momentarily considers bringing Prongs along, but discards the idea. He doesn't want to have to answer a lot of bloody questions, or to have to watch out for anyone else, not if Dark magic is involved. Despite his distaste for his family and everything connected to it, he's not so thick as to not pay attention when he's taught curse or countercurse, not these days. As a result, Sirius is fairly sure that he has a more comprehensive knowledge of the Dark Arts than anyone else in his House - hell, than anyone in the school, now that Bellatrix and the Rookwoods have graduated. It's far safer if he goes it alone.

He walks out of the castle and into the heat, which is as crushingly intense as it has been since the month began. He heads down to the Quidditch pitch, then crosses it, and slips into the Forbidden Forest. The five degree temperature drop feels far better than it really should, and Sirius pauses for a minute to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light beneath the trees. This is probably not a good idea, but then, he's done a lot of things that have qualified as bad ideas in the past, and he's still in one piece. Four or five meters into the Forest, he finds the trail that he's looking for and heads determinedly along it.

The Forest is almost unnaturally quiet. The afternoon heat seems to have subdued the normal woodland sounds into a waiting hush that prickles uncomfortably at the back of Sirius' neck. He feels as if he's being watched, and for a moment the desire to turn back is nearly overwhelming. Instead, he sets his shoulders, pulls his wand out of his pocket, and keeps going. He is _Sirius Black_, and he is more than a match for anything he might encounter.

Last night's clearing is deep in the Forest, and it takes him nearly half an hour to get there. By the time he does, he's half-wishing he'd traveled as Padfoot; still, being able to get to his wand beats convenience, especially today. He can't help feeling that he's walking through hostile territory, and it's not a sensation he enjoys, especially on what he is beginning his own ground.

As he steps into the clearing itself, the feeling of being an unwelcome intruder increases tenfold, and the idea of continuing his investigation becomes almost unpalatable. It's some sort of Repulsion Charm, then; or at least Sirius hopes it is. If the magic on whatever-it-is he's come in search of is strong enough and Dark enough to spook him this badly, then he is way out of his depth.

"_Spiritus Impervius_," he murmurs, tapping himself once on the shoulder with his wand. The feeling of dread slides away, becoming remote and distant and no longer his, though it does not vanish. This particular spell works by separating the subject from his emotions. It is also restricted to use by mediwizards only, and carefully monitored when it is used. Sirius learned it from his father the summer after third year, and though it has proven extremely useful, he's never mentioned it even to James. He's in dead trouble if he gets caught using it - _which means I'd better not get caught, doesn't it_, he tells himself firmly, and presses onward, across the clearing.

The spot he remembers from last night is unremarkable at first glance: a tangle of underbrush that looks just like the rest of this part of the forest. Still, as he gets closer, the distant sensation of dread becomes heavier, and he knows he's in the right place. There must be something in that tangle of bushes, then, if someone has gone to this much effort to make the place unwelcoming.

He parts the bushes with his hands, not really expecting to see anything, and is startled enough by the flash of something metallic on the ground that he nearly bends over and picks it up before he remembers how stupid that would be. The flash came from a silver box that is no bigger than the palm of his hand, and when he stoops for a closer look, he can see that there is something engraved on the lid: a complicated, dizzying pattern of curved and jagged lines that seems almost to swirl before his eyes.

"Right," he mutters to himself, and straightens, letting the bushes close back over his find. Sirius is doubly glad that he came alone. Prongs has a distressing tendency to investigate things by picking them up and either shaking them or trying to open them, whereas a life at Grimmauld Place has taught Sirius that in the case of strange magical items, discretion is by far the better part of valour. He's not sure what, exactly, is in the box, but he could venture a few moderately educated guesses, and none of them would be pleasant. That the thing is clearly expensive only makes things worse. It's not the sort of item one leaves lying about unless one intends to do some very serious damage.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: I know, this post is late. My only excuse is that yesterday was absolutely insane, and I'm glad it's over._

_ Thank you to everyone who has been reading, leaving feedback, etc. This one is unbeta'd, so bear with me.  
_


	15. May 15, 1976

**May 15, 1976:**

"Stop brooding, you great git," James says, smacking Sirius on the back of the head. "He's fine." 

"What?" Sirius asks blankly, and gets a suspicious look in return.

"What's gotten into you, then?" James asks. "And don't say nothing; you've been as grim as a bloody Dementor all day long. If it's not Remus, what is it?"

"It's nothing," Sirius says.

James thumps him.

"Leave off!" Sirius protests. "I'm trying to think, all right?"

"Must be dire, then," James says, and leaves him to his own devices. Sirius can't help but feel a little bit glad that Remus is still in the Hospital Wing, because if Remus were here, he'd get the truth by dint of sheer persistence, and Sirius doesn't want him anywhere _near_ that box in the Forest. He doesn't want _any_ of them anywhere near it, and as he can't go to Dumbledore without getting put in detention for the remainder of his natural life, he's feeling a bit trapped. For once, he wishes that he weren't at such odds with his family. They would at least be able to tell him if whatever is in the box is worth taking the detentions for.

The idea that strikes him then is sheer genius, and he nearly falls out of his chair in his mad scramble for the portrait hole. It will mean dealing with some sarcastic comments, but at least the old bastard won't be able to hex him.

There is a seldom used corridor on the fourth floor with a portrait of Winifred the Fair that's been helpful on more than one occasion. After the requisite compliments (on his part) and giggling (on hers), she agrees to take a message to one of the portraits in the Headmaster's office. Five minutes later, she returns with Phineas Nigellus himself in tow, looking more intrigued than cross - at least until he catches sight of Sirius.

"You!" he snaps. "What do you want?"

Sirius resists the urge to set the frame alight. It's not Phineas' portrait, after all.

"I need an answer," he says. "I found something on Hogwarts grounds that I think might be dangerous."

"Then report it to that blithering idiot who currently occupies my office!" Phineas says crossly. "What can I do about it?"

"You can tell me if it's dangerous, for starters."

"Sorry, can't help." Phineas starts to turn and walk out of the portrait.

"You'll be sorry," Sirius warns, and that stops him.

"What could you possibly do to _me_?" he asks scornfully.

"If you don't at least try to tell me what I want to know," Sirius tells him calmly, "I'll tell Sir Cadogan that there's a secret entrance to a dragon's lair somewhere in your portrait. _And_ I'll tell Lucinda the Lusty that you said she was a looker. And that's just for starters."

Phineas looks vaguely impressed. "That would be...uncomfortable," he admits. "Fine. Ask your questions, then."

* * *

_Author's Notes: It's hot, I'm tired, this is short. More tomorrow._

_ Feedback? Is most excellent, dude._


	16. May 16, 1976

**May 16, 1976**

"What's wrong with him?" Peter asks, glancing over at the chair that Sirius has occupied, scowling, since he came back into the Common Room a few minutes after midnight.  
"i dunno," James says. The shrug is implied. "I tried to ask him about it earlier and he actually growled at me. Let sleeping dogs lie, Pete."

"Ha bloody ha," Peter says, rolling his eyes. "Very funny. That pun is going right next to 'serious' on the banned list, mate."

"Why does no-one think that I'm funny?" James complains to the room at large.

"Oh, you're very funny," Peter assures him. "Really. You've no idea how many times I've heard people say that there's something funny about you."

"Prat," James accuses.

"Probably so," Peter says amiably. "Are you done with your essay, then?"

"Yeah, I finished it ages ago. Sorry," James says, and duly hands the parchment over to be copied.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: 150 words exactly, to get back into the swing of it. Back to daily updates now. Sorry for the delay; I've been in hospital. _


	17. May 17, 1976

**May 17, 1976**

"Remus! You're back!" James says, with an expression of profound relief on his face that Remus doesn't really think is justified, especially as he really hasn't been gone that long. One look at the Common Room, however, is enough to tell him why James is so glad to see him. The place looks like a bomb went off. Ink is spattered everywhere, as are various parchment scraps and bits of what looks suspiciously like crepe paper.

"Where is he?" Remus sighs.

"How in Merlin's name should I know?" James asks. "He spent all of last night rigging all of this -- " his exasperated gesture encompasses the disaster area that is the Common Room "-- together. It exploded all over the place when we came down this morning."

"He's been busy," Remus murmurs.

"He's insane," James says. He looks on the verge of adding something, but shakes his head instead. "I really hope you can talk some sense into him, Moony, or he'll most likely get lynched."

* * *

Sirius is, as expected, under the Quidditch stands. His expression is thunderous, but when he realizes who's interrupted his sulk, he breaks into a brilliant smile that tugs at something in Remus' chest. 

"_Moony!_" he exclaims, and jumps to his feet. An instant later, Remus is doing his best to fend off a half-grown, over-enthusiastic puppy hell-bent on jumping up and licking his face.

_"__Down_, Pads," he says, trying not to laugh. "Get down, you mad thing. And change back. Someone will see you." Padfoot subsides with a whine, then changes back into Sirius, sprawled out on the grass and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"What's this I hear about your booby-trapping the Common Room?" Remus asks.

"I couldn't sleep," Sirus shrugs. "I needed something to do."

"You realize that you'll probably get burned at the stake tonight in your sleep."

"I'm not planning on sleeping," Sirius says. "I need to talk to you about something."

* * *

"Wait," Remus says. Sirius' explanation isn't making much sense, though Remus supposes that could be residual fatigue from the recent full moon. "Is the box evil or not?" 

"No idea," Sirius answers. "Old Phineas Nigellus reckons it is, but he can't be sure until he's seen it."

"So - what? You want to go get the box and bring it to him?"

"No," Sirius shakes his head. "It's not safe." He grins, eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I want to take Phineas to see the box."

* * *

_Author's Notes__: First, a huge thank you to everyone who asked about my health/sent me best wishes. It was a pretty serious (no pun intended) deal, but I seem to be on the mend. Thanks also to everyone for being patient while I convalesced. This segment's a bit... plottier(is that a word? probably not) than the last one._

_As always, feedback of all kinds is much appreciated._


	18. May 18, 1976

**May 18, 1976**

"This is not a good idea," Remus mutters. He and Sirius are crouched under James' Invisibility Cloak, and hiding in the empty classroom across from Dumbledore's gargoyle. It's hot and stifled, and Sirius really is just a bit too close for comfort. Remus keeps having to resist the urge to lean forward those last few, crucial centimeters and just-- Sirius turns indignant eyes on him, and Remus does his best to look as if he's not thinking about jumping his best friend. 

"This is a great idea," Sirius insists, and he proceeds to explain why all over again, while Remus tries not to stare at his mouth.

"But the portrait in Dumbledore's office?!" he asks, when Sirius is done. 

"It's the only one we can force him to stay in," Sirius says. "Black Family portraits tend to be a bit more alive than most, and they've all got defences painted in to prevent them from being stolen, or forced to betray family secrets. Dumbledore can probably order him around, but I doubt anyone else can."

"You can," Remus says. "Right?"

"No, but I've been blackmailing him," Sirius grins, then clamps one hand down on Remus' leg as the gargoyle moves aside and Dumbledore comes hurrying down the stairs.

"Excellent," Sirius breathes. Remus doubts that anyone near James' and Peter's 'accidental' explosion in the Great Hall will feel the same way; still, the gargoyle is open, Dumbledore is out of sight, and a quick dash across the hall leaves them, panting and exhilarated, on the staircase when the gargoyle swings shut.

"Now what?" Remus asks, pushing the Cloak off.

"His office," Sirius answers. "If I can get into my father's, Dumbledore's should be easy. At least I won't get my hands burned off if I get these wrong." His casual tone makes the words somehow even more appalling, and he's too busy bending over Dumbledore's locked door to notice the look on Remus' face.

It takes Sirius nearly five minutes to get through the various charms and wards on Dumbledore's lock, and Remus spends the entire time hoping that James and Peter managed to create a large enough distraction. Between James' affinity for mayhem and Peter's ability to look innocent and confused, they should be all right; still, Remus can't help worrying. By the time Sirius pushes the door open with a triumphant 'ha!', Remus is practically trembling. 

The portraits in Dumbledore's office look up as they enter, a hundred generations of Headmasters and Headmistresses looking down with stony disapproval in their eyes. Phineas Nigellus is easily identifiable. He and Sirius look very much alike, with the same dark hair and storm-grey eyes, and the coldly superior expression on his painted face is identical to the one that Sirius wears when he doesn't want anyone to know what he's really thinking.

"What are you doing here?" Phineas asks, disapproval dripping from every syllable. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're going to be in?"

"A lot?" Sirius grins. "I'm used to it." He reaches up to take Phineas down off the wall.

"What are you doing?!" Phineas demands again, more urgently this time.

"I can't bring the box to you," Sirius shrugs, "so I'm taking you to it."

"You most certainly are not!" Phineas scolds. "Put me down! Theft! Murder! Help!"

"Quick, Moony!" Sirius says, and Remus holds open the sack he's been carrying while Sirius drops the portrait in. The sudden silence is almost physically startling.

"Locational Silencing Charm," Sirius tells the sack. "You can hear us, but we can't hear you." 

"Bad form," calls the portrait of Armando Dippet, "stealing a man's portrait like that."

"He's family," Sirius protests. "Besides, we're going to bring him back. Don't tell Dumbledore, all right?"

"If Phineas hadn't mentioned that box of yours..." Dippet says threateningly.

"Thank you!" Sirius exclaims, before he and Remus dash back out of the office. Sirius pauses to put the locking charms and wards back in place; then the two of them run down the stairs, hurriedly pulling the Cloak back over themselves. They make it into the hallway just in time, and duck into the empty classroom as Dumbledore's voice echoes through the stone corridors.

"...really, Minerva. Boyish high spirits, that's all."

"That's all I get from that little group," McGonagall mutters, but she sounds grudgingly amused, so James and Peter must have done a half-decent job.

"_Success_!" Sirius hisses in Remus' ear. "Now we wait until midnight, and then we begin phase two."

* * *

_Author's Notes__: As always, much thanks for the feedback. Here's something resembling an actual plot._


	19. May 19, 1976

**May 19, 1976**

"Shh!" Sirius hisses. Behind him, Peter bumps into James who bumps into Remus, who pokes Sirius in the back with the sack-covered corner of Phineas Nigellus' frame. Dumbledore and McGonagall read the whole school a lecture when they realized that the portrait was missing, but as the long arm of the law has still failed to descend, Sirius feels safe in assuming that the other portraits are keeping quiet.

His main concern right now is getting them all past Filch, who is prowling restlessly near the portrait of Alexander the Awful that, if asked properly, will swing open to reveal a tunnel that leads to the edge of the Forest. Sirius' stomach is twisting with a combination of nerves and sheer delight, as if he's taking a particularly steep dive on his broom.

"Mr. Prongs," he whispers over his shoulder, "did you prepare Plan A?"

"Yes, Mr. Padfoot," James answers. "Plan A is prepared."

"Good. Initiate Plan A," Sirius hisses back, never taking his eyes off of Filch.

He hears James' murmur: "Loquorum et audium Peeves spiritus," then the back and forth of conversation. James finishes with: "Have we ever been short even one dungbomb? Do it, Peeves!" The crash that follows moments later is distant, but still splendidly loud, and followed rapidly by a second, third, and fourth. Peeves is probably throwing suits of armour down the stairs, Sirius thinks vaguely; then the four of them dash across the hall and into the tunnel.

"Thirty dungbombs," Peter says, shaking his head. "If Filch ever finds out that we're the ones who've been supplying Peeves, he'll skin us alive."

"We've got bigger worries now, mate," Sirius says cheerfully. "Think about what Dumbledore will do to us if he finds out we've stolen one of his portraits." From the strangled noise that Peter makes, this might not have been a helpful thing to say.

"Er -- right, then," Remus says. "Let's hurry, so that we can get Phineas back before the mass flayings commence."

* * *

The Forest is dark, and filled with shadows that linger worryingly on the edge between seductive and menacing. They seem to snatch at Sirius out of the corners of his vision, but when he looks directly at them, he sees nothing but an ominous, waiting stillness. He is not sure if it would be better to have all four of them cast _Lumos_, or worse. As it is, the light at the end of James' wand feels uncomfortably bright, like an intrusion. 

"I don't like this," Peter says quietly. His voice carries more than it should, and they all wince. No one else speaks, but judging by their expressions they feel much the same. Sirius, though he'd rather not, can't help but agree. The Forest is especially unfriendly tonight, and the centaur's warning is ringing in his ears. They move as quickly as they can along the barely-existent path towards the clearing. Once or twice, Sirius changes form and runs ahead. Even as Padfoot, the Forest is unpleasantly silent. He gets the feeling that they are the only things moving in the darkness, and he doesn't like it.

By the time they finally reach the clearing, his nerves are stretched to the breaking point, and when James comes up behind him and puts a hand on his back, he nearly gets bitten for his trouble. Sirius changes back, and the four of them stand frozen for a moment, uncertain, before Sirius remembers that he's supposed to be in charge this time.

"Let's do this and get out of here," he murmurs. His voice, like Peter's, sounds far too loud in the stillness. "Wormtail, get Phineas out of the sack. Moony, cast _Silencio_ on him the instant Wormtail gets him out. The last thing we want right now is Phineas Nigellus yelling his head off."

"All right," Remus agrees. Peter nods, with an apprehensive glance at the darkness edging them in. Between the two of them, Phineas is quickly out of his sack, Silenced, and glaring furiously at Sirius with an expression that demands an explanation.

"I need you to look at that box," Sirius tells him grimly. "I also need you not to shout. We're in the middle of the Forest, and if it looks like we're about to get eaten because of you, I'll set you on fire." He matches Phineas glare for glare, and has to hide his exultation when his painted ancestor gives him a grudging nod.

"Okay, Moony. You can take the Silencing Charm off now."

Phineas seems willing to content himself with another glare and a demand to be taken to the box and then back to Dumbledore's office. It's a quiet demand, though, so Sirius lets it pass.

"This way," Sirius says, and the four of them cross the clearing. Sirius parts the bushes until he sees the gleam of silver reflected in the light from James' wand, while Remus holds the portrait so that he can see, and Peter keeps a nervous watch on the encroaching shadows.

"Bugger," Phineas Nigellus says sharply, and they all jump.

"What?" Sirius asks. "What is it?"

"Not here," Phineas says. "The less time we spend out here, the better."

With Phineas Nigellus propped up at the end of Sirius' bed, and all of the lamps in the room blazing brightly, Sirius asks his question again.

"It's a _Tempestas Locas_ _Maleficus_," Phineas says. "Or rather, part of one. The engraving on the box is unmistakable."

"What does it do?" Sirius asks impatiently, though he has the sinking feeling that he already knows.

"If properly cast," Phineas says, "it changes the weather for as large an area as the caster can make it cover. It also," he adds darkly, "tends to make any magical creatures in the affected area come over a bit... strange. Really, Sirius," he says, with a sharp look, "your father must have mentioned this to you at least once. It's a basic principle of Dark magic."

"Doesn't mean I was paying attention," Sirius says sullenly, ignoring the inquiring look James is giving him.

"Of course not," Phineas sneers. "Salazar forbid that you learn something useful."

"Like the countercharm?" Remus asks.

"Or the fact that there is no countercharm," Phineas says. "Basic principle or no, casting that spell requires a great deal of strength and training. Undoing something like that takes a bit more than a Finite Incantatum."

Remus looked as if he were about to say something else, but at that moment, the bedroom door burst open. Silhouetted in the doorway is a narrow-eyed, furious Professor McGonagall.

_"Where have you been?"_ she demands, then catches sight of Phineas Nigellus. "What in Merlin's name is going on here?!"

* * *

_Author's Notes: As always, my thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read/review/leave feedback. You guys are making this daily-update thing a lot of fun._


	20. May 20, 1976

**May 20, 1976**

"It's my fault, Professor," Sirius says, standing up. Remus, Peter, and James transfer their stunned gazes from McGonagall to him. They've always taken punishments together, after all; still, that nagging voice in the back of Sirius' head is telling him that they could all be expelled over this, and that the whole mess really is _his_ responsibility.

McGonagall fixes him with a piercing look. "Is that so, Mister Black?"

Sirius swallows hard, and nods.

"In that case," she says, "pick up your ancestor and follow me. And take care that you do not damage that painting!" Turning her attention back to the three boys still on the floor, she snaps: "Thirty points from Gryffindor, on general principles! You all should have known better."

James and Peter look vaguely guilty. Remus is still staring wide-eyed at Sirius, who can't help but wonder if he's got something on his face. Even though he's about to be dragged off to detention for _eternity_, or maybe even _expelled_, the thought of having something on his face in front of Remus is unexpectedly embarrassing.

McGonagall's hand descends upon his shoulder, interrupting thoughts of Remus and smudges on faces, and steers him inexorably towards the headmaster's office.

* * *

Dumbledore looks a great deal less friendly than he usually does, and Sirius can't quite suppress a wince at the thought of his own coming expulsion. 

"Well, Mister Black?" he asks. "Do you have an explanation for this?"

Sirius isn't quite sure what to say, so he goes with the option that explains nothing. "It was all my fault, Headmaster. It was my idea, and the others didn't know about it."

"Thank you, Mister Black," Dumbledore murmurs dryly. "Might I inquire as to your reasons for stealing Phineas Nigellus' portrait?"

"To see if I could do it?" Sirius hazards, and is saved from an explosion of McGonagall's professorly rage by, of all people, Phineas Nigellus.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," the portrait snaps. "Do you _never_ listen? You can't possibly handle it by yourself, boy, so you might as well come clean."

"Handle what by himself?" Dumbledore asks sharply, while Sirius wishes Phineas Nigellus to perdition.

"A _Tempestas Locas Maleficus_," Phineas answers. If he were a person instead of a painting, Sirius would kick him in the shins. As it is, he has to settle for glaring furiously.

"Where?!" McGonagall demands. "Here, in the castle?"

"I think," Dumbledore says, "that we need to hear this story from Sirius himself."

* * *

"...and that's when you came in, Professor," Sirius finishes. He's left out any hint that the others were in the Forest with him, and only admitted to two visits anyway; still, Dumbledore's expression is uncomfortably knowing. 

"I see," he says. "Well, Sirius, you can rest assured that I will deal with the _Tempestas Locas Maleficus_. That being said, although I understand and appreciate your desire to protect Hogwarts and its environs, please remember that, in the future, the proper response to finding a Dark object on the grounds is 'alert a Professor', not 'haul a portrait into the Forbidden Forest at midnight in an attempt to deal with it on your own'." He looks at Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva, will you give us a moment, please?"

I'm in for it now, Sirius thinks, as the door closes behind her.

"Sir --"

"Sherbet lemon?" Dumbledore asks, picking up a small bowl.

Sirius stares at him blankly.

"Perhaps now is not the time," Dumbledore says serenely. "Ah, well." He puts the bowl down and leans forward.

"Tell me, Sirius -- I know you have heard of Lord Voldemort. Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

* * *

_Author's Notes: As always, my thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read/review/leave feedback. Just so everyone knows, there probably won't be much more about Voldemort or the Order in this -- but I couldn't resist the lead-in._

_Twenty down, ten more to go! (Sorry I missed yesterday -- I was very much asleep.)  
_


	21. May 21, 1976

**May 21, 1976**

Sirius spends most of the next afternoon under Prongs' Cloak, hexing the flagstone outside the Slytherin portrait hole so that anyone who steps on it is instantly teleported to a spot three feet above the lake. It's a complicated piece of spell-work, especially as he has to coax it through Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards, and as such is exactly what Sirius needs to occupy his hands and leave his mind free to think things through. 

He's suspected since the Sorting Hat yelled 'Gryffindor' that he wouldn't be following in his father's political footsteps, has known it since he figured out Remus' secret, but there's a difference between finding his own way and actively opposing everything his family stands for. If he sides with Dumbledore now, he'll have made his choice and he won't be able to unmake it - but one sentence of the Headmaster's keeps running through his mind. _The Order believes that we are all equal_.

_We are all equal._

Sirius had wanted to ask if that included werewolves, but the calm reassurance in Dumbledore's face had made the question unnecessary, and now Sirius has spent the whole day thinking about a world with no Registry. About a world where Remus wouldn't have to live under Ministry control, or keep himself a secret just to go to school, and while Sirius doesn't care much about the Muggles, he does care about Remus, and that sort of world sounds like it's worth fighting for. _Remus_ is worth fighting for. Worth fighting for, worth dying for, worth spitting in his father's eye over, because even though James is Sirius' best friend, Remus is his --

Is his --

_ Oh._

The shock of the realization makes the castle tilt and spin dizzily around him, and Sirius sits back against the wall with an audible thud. A few seconds later, Leonard Bulstrode makes the mistake of coming out to investigate, and vanishes with a startled cry when his foot hits the hexed flagstone. Sirius doesn't notice. 

"I am so _screwed_," he whispers to himself.

* * *

_Author's Notes: As always, my thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read/review/leave feedback. You guys rock.  
_


	22. May 22, 1976

**May 22, 1976**

The Slytherins are forced to come to breakfast via the lake, despite the combined efforts of Professors Flitwick, Slughorn, and McGonagall, the latter of whom has been driven to promising full amnesty to the culprit if they will only come forward and remove the spell. 

"Sheer _genius_," James says, for perhaps the fiftieth time since he got back from watching the Slytherins make their wet, sopping way up to the castle. Sirius is about to modestly accept the credit due his genius with perhaps a small speech when Remus comes yawning into the Great Hall and renders him incapable of stringing two words together. It doesn't help that Remus takes one look at the still-damp Slytherins and turns an accusatory, trying-not-to-smile expression on Sirius that makes his stomach feel like it's full of pixies.

"_Padfoot_," Remus remonstrates, and Sirius ducks his head over his eggs and does his best to look less gobsmacked.

"It's _genius_," James insists again, and Remus' mouth twitches in a way that makes Sirius bite his lip in frustration. He can already tell that love is going to be absolute hell.

"You really should undo it, Pads," Remus says. "Especially as McGonagall's promised an amnesty."

Sirius mumbles something, and earns himself a funny look from Peter for his trouble.

"What was that, mate?" James asks, and Sirius has to stop himself from stabbing his best friend with a fork.

"I'm sure your eggs appreciate the conversation," James continues, "but the rest of us are having trouble hearing you."

"Ha-bloody-ha," Sirius says, and glares at him. "I said that I'm not sure I_ can_ undo it! I'm not sure how I did it in the first place! I wasn't paying attention, all right? And somehow I don't think McGonagall would appreciate hearing that!"

"I _certainly_ _don't_, Mr. Black," McGonagall says from behind him.

Sirius winces. She hasn't managed to successfully sneak up on him since third year, which shows how distracted he is.

"Am I to understand that you got through Hogwarts' wards _by accident_?" she demands.

"Um... sort of?" Sirius hazards. McGonagall stares at him narrow-eyed, and he hastens to explain. "I mean, I knew what I was trying to do, and I knew I'd have to get through the wards, but I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing. I just _did_ it."

"_Wonderful,_" McGonagall sighs, and slides her glasses up to pinch the bridge of her nose with one hand. "In that case, Mr. Black, I think you should see me after classes have let out so that we can discuss your detention. In the meantime, _get down there and take that spell off! Now!"_

His traitorous friends are doing their best to keep a straight face, but Sirius knows them, and he can just tell that they're all laughing on the inside. He goes off in a sulk. This love stuff is _shit._

* * *

_Author's Notes: Nine days left! As always, all feedback is lovingly cherished._


	23. May 23, 1976

**May 23, 1976**

"This will be on the exam," Professor Zenophilus says as he dismisses the class. Sirius winces, because he's spent the last half-hour staring at Remus instead of paying attention in Arithmancy.

It's not his fault, really. Remus was sitting directly in front of him, and Sirius couldn't help but be entranced by the way Remus' hair curls a little bit at the nape of his neck, by the motion of his shoulders under his robe, the tilt of his head, the curve of his ear... _no one_ can be expected to concentrate on Transfigurational proofs with that sort of distraction in front of them even if it _will_ be on the exam.

"Coming, Padfoot?" Remus asks, and Sirius realizes that he's still staring. He ducks his head to hide his blush as he gathers up his things and shoves them into his bag, then follows Remus out the door. James and Peter join them on the second floor, and the four of them head down to the dungeons.

James is talking, something about Evans and a charmed quill, but Sirius, half a step behind the others, isn't really listening. Instead, he's studying the way Remus' fingers, pale and ink-stained, wrap around the strap of his bag; the half-hidden gleam of amusement in Remus' eyes as he listens to Prongs natter on, the way his --

"_Padfoot!_" James says loudly.

"What?!" Sirius asks.

"Are you all right, mate? That's the third time I've said your name."

"I'm fine," Sirius says, panicking. "Just fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He laughs, just to show everyone that he is indeed fine, and finds himself on the receiving end of three funny looks.

"Are you sure?" Peter asks.

"Yes!" Sirius exclaims. "Everything is wonderful! Everything's great! Perfect, even!" He's almost grateful when, a moment later, something catches at his foot and he trips, falling forward in a clatter of books and papers and bottles of ink. Falling flat on his face is, somehow,_ less_ embarrassing.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: This one's for drschreaber, who apparently read my mind while I was writing it. Eight days left..._

_ As always, feedback is love.  
_


	24. May 24, 1976

**May 24, 1976**

Sirius has been avoiding him for three days when Remus finally decides that he's had enough. Sirius' absence is an almost physical pain, and if Remus has done something wrong, then he wants to fix it. He tracks Sirius to his usual hiding spot beneath the Quidditch stands, and corners him there.

"Are you annoyed with me for some reason, Padfoot?" he asks.

"No!" Sirius says, but his voice sounds off, and he won't meet Remus' eyes.

"Are you sure? Because you've been avoiding me for days, now." He can hear his own insecurity in his voice, and wants to kick himself, but presses onward. "If I did something, Sirius, please tell me. I can't make up for it if you don't tell me what I did."

"You didn't do anything!" Sirius says sharply; then his voice softens. "I'm sorry, Moony. I didn't mean to snap at you. You didn't do anything, all right?"

"All right," Remus says. The silence grows; spreads itself thickly and awkwardly between them. Sirius stares at the ground.

"I'll just go, then," Remus says after a minute, but the sheer misery of Sirius' expression as he turns to leave stops him. "Sirius, what's _wrong_ ?"

"Nothing," Sirius mutters.

"Is it your family again?"

"No."

"Pads -" Remus wants to hug him, but is too afraid of betraying himself to risk it. He settles for crossing the few feet between them and putting a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "You can tell me anything, you know." Sirius leans into Remus' hand for a second or two, then pulls away, his face drawn in lines of unhappiness.

"Not this," he says, wrapping his arms around himself. "You'd - I'd - it would fuck things up between us, Moony. I'll get over it eventually."

"Nothing you could say would fuck things up between us," Remus vows, and he means it. Sirius was the first person to make Remus feel human since the bite. "I mean, I told you I was a _werewolf_ and you forgave me."

"There was nothing to forgive!" Sirius says hotly, glancing at Remus for half a second before looking away again. "And besides, I figured it out."

"My point is that you can tell me anything." Sirius laughs shortly, but doesn't sound like himself at all. Remus grips his shoulder hard. "I _mean_ it! I_ promise_, Padfoot."

"Anything?" Sirius asks, still with that bitter twist to his voice.

"Anything," Remus promises. Sirius closes his eyes, and the look of despair on his face almost stops Remus' heart.

"I'm so _sorry_," he says, then leans forward and presses his lips to Remus'.

There is one brief, frozen moment in which Remus isn't sure what's happening; then he realizes that _ Sirius is kissing him_ with the same tender, desperate ferocity that has been running through Remus' veins and dreams since _Christmas_, and he kisses Sirius back for all that he's worth.

Sirius takes a startled breath, and Remus bites gently at his bottom lip, kisses the corner of his mouth, kisses him again, licking past lips and teeth to get his first taste of Sirius Black, tangling a hand in Sirius' hair as Sirius pulls him closer. When they finally have to stop for breath, Sirius' eyes are shining with the sort of joy that Remus hasn't seen since he first demonstrated his mastery of the Animagus transformation.

"That was _brilliant_," he breathes.

Remus wants to say something smooth and dashing, but can only manage a breathless: "Yeah. It really was. It really, really was." He knows that he's grinning like a lunatic, but he doesn't care.

"We can do that again, right?" Sirius asks, and he's grinning too, like he's too happy to do anything else.

"Count on it," Remus assures him, leaning forward until their foreheads touch. He can't stop smiling.

"I _ told_ you, didn't I? You can tell me _anything_."

* * *

_Author's Notes__: This one is dedicated to everyone who's been waiting for it. _

_ Feedback nourishes the plotbunnies!  
_


	25. May 25, 1976

**May 25, 1976**

"Is there anything you want to tell me, Padfoot?" James asks mildly, and watches in amusement as Sirius jumps, turns red, and drops a year's worth of Arithmancy notes on the floor. It's not nice to tease, but James can't resist, especially as both Sirius and Remus are apparently under the impression that they're being terribly discreet about the whole thing. "A new romance in your life, perhaps?"

"No!" Sirius yelps, diving for his scattered papers. "Nothing!"

"Really? Are you sure?" James asks, hiding a smile behind his hand. "Because that looks an awful lot like a love bite, mate."

"That?" Sirius asks, one hand going unerringly to the dark spot on his neck. "That's nothing. Got hit by a runaway Chocolate Frog." He laughs unconvincingly.

"Oh, come on," James says, trying not to laugh. "I won't tell anybody. Is she a Hufflepuff? Is that why you're ashamed of her? It's a _secret _passion, right?"

Sirius goes crimson, and James is bracing for a really good brawl when Remus walks in.

"Is who a Hufflepuff?" he asks calmly.

"Er -" James says.

"Moony!" Sirius says gratefully. "Make him stop, please?"

"Really, Prongs," Remus says. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"...no?" James hazards. Remus rolls his eyes.

"Come on, Pads," he says, extending a hand to help Sirius up. "I'll protect you from the big mean deer."

"Hey!" Sirius says, but his look of indignation fades when Remus, instead of letting go of his hand, threads their fingers together. "Oh," he says, and grins soppily. "That's all right then."

"Well?" Remus asks, looking cooly at James, who scowls.

"You're no fun," he says. "I could have kept him going for weeks."

"Yes, well," Remus says, with an evil smile that James didn't think him capable of, "that's my job now, isn't it?"

"Oh, Merlin, my _brain_!" James sticks his fingers in his ears. Looking at Sirius' sudden smirk, he gets the distinct feeling that he's lost the upper hand.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: Six days left...  
_

_Thanks so much to everyone who's taken the time to read and/or review so far! Feedback keeps the plotbunnies from starving to death._


	26. May 26, 1976

**May 26, 1976**

They're sneaking down the corridors towards the kitchens, because James was busy following (stalking) Evans, and didn't get any supper, because Sirius and Remus were busy studying (snogging) under the Quidditch stands, and because Peter is always up for a midnight snack (or a one a.m. snack, or...) Sirius keeps dragging Remus into every alcove and empty classroom they come across, and as a result, James and Peter are a good fifty feet ahead of them by the time they reach their destination.

"Will you two come on?" James hisses. 

Peter smiles. James was a lot happier when he could tease Sirius about his unwitting passion; happier still when he realized that he could tease Sirius about snogging Remus. Moony's calm in the face of mockery has taken the wind out of his sails, however, and he's resorted to sarcasm and sniping that he doesn't really mean. Peter's just glad that Sirius is in a better mood. 

"Keep your pants on, Potter," Sirius says, coming up with Remus in tow. Both of them look distinctly mussed.

"Oh? I thought that was your sort of thing now," James retorts.

"Moony's _my_ sort of thing," Sirius says. James makes gagging noises. Peter thinks it's all rather sweet, really -- except for the noises that James is making, which are pretty disgusting.

"Back me up, Wormtail," James says, when he's done with his theatrics. "That was just gross."

"I dunno," Peter shrugs.

Sirius pumps his fist in triumph. "Ha!" He turns to Remus. "Did you hear that, Moony?"

"Hear what?" Remus asks dryly. "Peter's non-committal expression that meant exactly nothing?"

"It _meant_," Sirius says, "that we are fantastically good-looking and meant for each other, and that James wants nothing more than to watch us snog."

"James wants nothing more than to _blind himself_," mutters that individual, "and possibly deafen himself as well."

"You're just jealous because Evans still thinks you're pond scum," Sirius says airily. 

The resultant tussle gets them all caught by Filch. Sirius and Remus don't seem to mind, and James swears up and down that it was worth it. 

Peter's still hungry.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: The bunny bit, so here's the second installment in an hour and a half. Twenty-six down, five to go...  
_


	27. May 27, 1976

**May 27, 1976**

Outside, the rain is coming down; a heavy, soaking rain that rattles hard against the glass and against the roof of Gryffindor Tower. James is curled up in the window seat, watching the Forbidden Forest bend and sway in obedience to the storm, with a blanket wrapped around him to keep out the sudden, unseasonal chill that somehow manages to creep in despite the layers of charms that ostensibly keep the castle warm. Peter has all of their Transfigurations notes spread out in front of him on the floor, and is making changes to his own. Across the room, Remus is sprawled out on his bed with a book, one hand turning the pages every few minutes, while the other hand idly scratches behind Padfoot's ears. Padfoot himself is sleeping. Occasionally, one over-sized paw twitches slightly, and his ears move about as he listens to whatever noises inhabit his dreams.

* * *

_Author's Notes_:_ 150 words exactly. It's harder than you'd think. _


	28. May 28, 1976

**May 28, 1976**

James knew it would be trouble. Like Remus, and to a lesser extent Peter, he had a highly-developed sense of what would cause any and all adults in the vicinity to come down on them like the proverbial bag of hammers. Sirius, perhaps because none of the adults he'd encountered in early childhood had been anything like normal, lacked this sense, and was as a result quite often amazed at the uproar caused by his latest attempt at self-entertainment.

In theory, James thinks, he should have been able to rein Sirius in. Unfortunately, a Sirius With a Plan is a Sirius Who Is Difficult to Resist, particularly when that plan consists of the splendid idea of hexing all of Slytherin House to stick to their benches at breakfast.

The resultant chaos would have allowed him and Sirius to make it out the door if Professor McGonagall hadn't been waiting for them. She grabs each of them by a shoulder and marches them up to her office, at which point the lecturing begins and James stops paying attention. Sirius had stopped paying attention the instant she grabbed his shoulder.

Once she finishes her lecture - ending it with the usual threats of letters to various parents that are, in Sirius' case, never carried out - Sirius and James slouch off to the Quidditch pitch to lick their wounds in peace. Remus finds them an hour or so later, lying under the stands and tossing clumps of dirt at one another in a half-hearted fashion.

"I was wondering where you two had gone," he says. Sirius is busy staring like the besotted fool he is, so James takes it upon himself to answer Remus.

"McGonagall didn't think that stuck Slytherins were funny. No sense of humour, that woman."

"I think she's got more of a dry sense of humour," Remus disagrees, seating himself cross-legged on the ground next to Sirius, who promptly rolls over to put his head in Remus' lap. "She's not the sort to properly appreciate slapstick," Remus continues, absentmindedly threading his fingers through Sirius' hair.

_"_No one properly appreciates our genius," Sirius says complacently. He reaches up to capture Remus' free hand in one of his own. "They keep mixing it up with insanity."

"With you, it is sometimes difficult to know the difference," Remus teases.

"Well, even my madness has a touch of brilliance to it," Sirius grins. "After all, I'm crazy about you."

"Corniest line ever, Pads," Remus says, but the curve of his smile and his faint blush betray his pleasure at hearing it.

"Guilty as charged," Sirius says. He turns his head and plants a quick kiss on Remus' empty palm. "Does this mean I'm hopeless?"

"Completely," Remus tells him, face solemn.

"Then you'll just have to keep me around," Sirius says, so contentedly that for a few seconds, James can't help but feel as if he's somehow intruding. Then Sirius throws another clump of dirt at him, and the moment passes. Later, though, when James remembers the shining, helpless love in Sirius' face, he will realize for the first time just how badly he himself has fallen for Lily Evans.

* * *

_Author's Notes__: Three more to go! As always, my thanks to everyone who's read/reviewed so far. _

_Feedback is love._


	29. May 29, 1976

**May 29, 1976**

It's the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and the four of them are making their way along the path from Hogwarts with a studied nonchalance. They, after all, have been in and out of Hogsmeade all year long, thanks to a combination of James' Cloak and the tunnel under the one-eyed witch. The secret gives Peter a warm feeling of superiority as he looks at the students hurrying eagerly past them.

"Zonko's first," Sirius is saying. "Then Honeyduke's, and then I'm going to take Remus to Madame Puddifoot's." There is a moment of stunned, horrified silence; then Sirius bursts into laugher. "Oh, _Merlin_, your _faces_! Did you think I was serious?"

"Well, yes," James says. Everyone groans.

"That's been on the banned list since first year," Peter says.

"I'm _seriously_ ashamed of you," Remus adds. James looks chagrined.

"Does it sound that stupid when I do it?"

_"Yes,"_ Sirius and Peter tell him at once. James pretends to be offended until Sirius ruffles his hair; then there is a moment that nearly ends in a flying tackle, except that by then they're in Hogsmeade, and James has become too conscious of his dignity to start scuffling in public.

"We still need to get those dungbombs for Peeves," James says, as the four of them turn their steps towards Zonko's.

"I was hoping we could wait until the last day of school," Remus says hopefully.

"And miss out on whatever it is Peeves wants thirty dungbombs for? No _way_," Sirius says, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"I was afraid you'd see it that way," Remus groans.

"Oh, come on," Peter says. "It'll be fun."

"It will smell awful," Remus warns.

"That's the _point_, O Moony Mine," Sirius says, flashing him a brilliant smile. "Wormtail's right; it'll be _fun_."

* * *

They spend nearly an hour in Zonko's - _we have to lay in supplies for our yearly send-off_, Sirius insists, and no one feels inclined to argue with him. After that, loaded down with enough Zonko's products to start their own branch, at least according to Remus, they grab a booth in the Three Broomsticks. 

Lily Evans is sitting across the room and Peter can tell the exact moment that James notices her, because he turns pale, then red, then pale again. Peter and Remus exchange sympathetic, if knowing, looks. Sirius is off at the bar, trying to charm four Firewhiskies out of Madame Rosemerta, which Peter can't help thinking is a good thing. From the look on James' face, he's not in the mood to be teased about his unrequited passion for Evans.

"All right there, mate?" Peter asks him, and James nods jerkily without taking his eyes off of Lily.

"Yeah," he says. "Thanks."

Sirius comes back sulking and carrying four butterbeers. "She won't serve us with all the other students about," he says, glaring around the room as if he can make everyone else vanish through sheer willpower.

"So we'll come back tonight," Remus shrugs.

"That's my Moony," Sirius grins, settling into the booth beside Remus.

"Tonight?" Peter protests. "I need to study."

"You _need_ to come back to Hogsmeade with us," Sirius says. "Come on, Wormtail; school's almost out. We have to make the most of our limited opportunities for mischief."

"Somehow, I don't think that will be a problem," Remus says dryly, with a look at the bulging Zonko's bags under their table.

* * *

Honeydukes is always their last stop in Hogsmeade, because the passage from the shop's basement allows them to sneak all manner of forbidden items past Filch's eagle eyes. Sirius of course spends a ridiculous amount of money; then the four of them, after a careful glance to be sure that no one is looking, slip into the basement and from there into the tunnel, where James' Cloak has been waiting for them since this morning, charmed so that only its owner can find it again.

"Hurry up, mate," Sirius says, as James hunts around the tunnel for his Cloak.

"Keep your pants on," James says.

Sirius shrugs and opens one of the Honeydukes bags. "Moony, where're my blood-flavoured lollipops?"

"You didn't get any," Remus answers.

"Are you sure?" Sirius asks. "I meant to." He looks up, eyes wide in the light from James' wand. "You _distracted_ me! _On_ _purpose_!"

"Me?" Remus asks, far too innocently.

"With that Sugar Quill," Sirius says darkly. "I _saw_ that, Moony."

"I meant for you to," Remus smirks. Even in the dim light, Peter can see the blush that creeps over Sirius' face.

"_Oh_," he starts to say; then James cuts him off with a crow of triumph.

"Found it!" He holds the Cloak aloft.

"Took you long enough," Sirius says.

"Shut it, Padfoot," James says amiably, and the two of them begin the post-Hogsmeade ritual of wrapping all of their forbidden Zonko's products up in the Cloak.

It takes longer than usual, because Sirius keeps looking over at Remus with startled, hungry eyes.

Normally, the job of carrying the joke-filled Cloak back to the dormitory falls to James and Sirius. This time, however, Peter volunteers to help James carry it, and the two of them head down the tunnel. After a few minutes, Peter can hear Remus and Sirius coming up behind them. When he turns to look back he can see that the two of them are holding hands, and neither of them lets go until they reach the statue of the one-eyed witch.

* * *

_Author's Notes: This one is for **drschreaber**, who mentioned Hogsmeade and fed the plot-bunny. As always, thanks so much to everyone who's taken the time to read/review so far._

_Feedback? Is love.  
_


	30. May 30, 1976

**May 30, 1976**

"Firewhiskey," James says expansively, "is better than anything ever." They've sealed the rest of their House in the dormitories for the night, and are proceeding to thoroughly debauch themselves in the pursuit of intoxication.

Sirius, who is lying on his back under one of the tables in the Common Room, props himself up on his elbows, an amused gleam in his eyes. His hair is hopelessly mussed, his tie is askew, and his face is flushed, several hours of continuous drinking having had their effect even on his usually aristocratic complexion. 

"Anything, Prongs?" he asks. James nods in agreement. 

"_Anything_," he says fervently.

"Better than Evans?" Remus asks, and gets a look from Sirius that speaks eloquently of stolen lines and retribution.

"_Much_ better," James says, gesturing with the nearly-empty bottle. "Evans punched me in the face, you know." He sounds aggrieved. "Gave me a black eye. Never been punched in the face by a whiskey bottle."

"Thorns," Peter says, from his prone position on top of the table that Sirius is under. "Scratchy things. Girls don't like 'em much."

"Pete's _ sozzled_," Sirius says with relish, flopping back onto the carpet. 

"Am not," Peter insists.

"Smashed," James agrees.

"Shnookered," Remus offers.

"_Shit-faced!_" Peter exclaims with obvious glee; then, as Sirius reaches up and starts rocking the table, Peter grabs tight hold of the edges. "Earthquake!" he says, in some alarm.

"Padfoot," Remus scolds. Sirius subsides, and makes his amends by swiping the bottle from James and passing it up to Peter.

"Hey!" James protests. 

"Calm down, you greedy bugger," Sirius says. "You're already drunk."

"I _am_," James agrees happily. "It is _fantastic_."

"It's bloody funny, is what it is," Sirius says. "You can't hold your liquor."

"I _can_," James insists. "I can drink you under the table."

"He's already there," Peter says; then, cackling madlly, he rolls off the table and hits the carpet with a thud and a dismayed squeak. Half a second later, the bottle joins him on the floor.

"Watch the alcohol!" Sirius yelps. He tries to get up and grab it, but only manages to whack his head on the bottom of the table. "Ow ow ow bugger _fuck_," he says feelingly, but manages to scramble out from under the table and retrieve the bottle even as he's complaining.

"All right, Pads?" Remus asks him.

"No," Sirius says mournfully, hurling himself at Remus' feet and fixing him with the Pitiful Puppy Eyes of Doom. "I'm dying. My head is broken. Quick, Moony -- kiss me before I go."

"You daft bastard," Remus says, but it's affectionate, and after a minute, he gives into temptation and does as requested.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Again, thanks so much for being patient with me. I really haven't been in the right frame of mind to write MWPP-fic lately. There's so much tragedy beneath the light, fluffy stuff, and even though that's not what this fic is about, it kept trying to break through. Anyway. One more left; then I think I'm going to buckle down and finish the next chapter of DWYS. Maybe._

_As always, feedback is love. _


	31. May 31, 1976

**May 31, 1976**

James has been hung over all day, but it really hasn't mattered.  They've spent a lazy Sunday lounging about in various locations -- in the dorms, by the lake, under the Quidditch stands, moving from place to place as the mood strikes them, but never with any real intent behind it.  Sirius and Remus have been murmuring to each other all afternoon.  It's the quietest the former has been all month, and James would be worried if it weren't for the stupidly happy expression on his face.

Half an hour before supper, Sirius sits up with a jerk, eyes wide.

"Oh, _no_," he moans.

"What is it?" Remus asks, while Peter and James look up curiously.

"Moony, we forgot to go all the way around the lake today.  Remember?"

They'd planned it and forgotten about it; Sirius had wanted to investigate an interesting hole in the ground he'd noticed the week before.

"Don't worry about it, Pads," James says lazily, as Remus tugs Sirius back down into their sprawl on the grass.  "We've got all the time in the world."

* * *

_Author's Notes__:  I'm so sorry for the delay between the last post and this one -- I lost this in a notebook, and couldn't remember what I'd written.  Anyway, that concludes this fic; thanks so much to everyone who read, commented, and waited patiently as the experiment changed and was delayed.  
_


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